


In the End, There's My Beginning

by vogue91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Introspection, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 16:43:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13745094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: Masks. Masks everywhere. Grey, of that lethal and cold grey belonging only to metal.Of that grey that, much more than black, knows how to become a mild and grotesque omen of death.





	In the End, There's My Beginning

Masks. Masks everywhere. Grey, of that lethal and cold grey belonging only to metal.

Of that grey that, much more than black, knows how to become a mild and grotesque omen of death.

This is what they want. Their food isn’t death, but the fear of it which makes them feel powerful, immortal.

I fought, casting curses almost randomly, careful not to hit anyone but them. I don’t care about my life right now, boredom, imprisonment and brutality had taught me how other people are the most important thing to survive.

In a completely selfish way, I want them all to be safe so that they won’t abandon me; and, presumptuous as usual, I don’t even think that in those confused and fast moments, I’ll be the one to abandon myself.

 

When I see her, I feel what little reason I have left slipping away.

My lovely cousin has always been like she is now.

Cold, yet passionate, evil in the worst of ways, but of that evilness brushing the edges of madness.

All of a sudden I find myself in front of a mirror reflecting my nemesis, I find myself in front of a pair of eyes that, with a colour different from mine, reflect all that moves me.

Fear, for different reasons, a desire to win, laid upon us by the common blood of a family who’s never known how to lose.

The battle goes on and so do we, none the wiser as to what will happen. It’s not about the Prophecy anymore, nor Harry or the supremacy over the enemy. It’s just about winning, proving that the Wizarding World has its destiny in one of our hands, that it isn’t waiting on the plate of a scale waiting for the strongest to take it and use it as if it belonged to him.

And for me, it’s also about escaping, about changing, about being responsible for my own choices, without having to ask permission to ask, or feeling a thief because stranger eyes are staring at me.

There’s no destiny for me which would be worse than the one I’m already living, there’s no internal battle winning over a man who, fourteen years ago, has lost a dignity which wasn’t worth much to begin with.

And I keep going, I keep casting spells and fighting, I keep staring at Bellatrix with a smile that would like to be mocking, but that serves the only purpose of masking the fear of falling further into the abyss I’m already in.

Busy watching all that surrounds me, I almost don’t realize I’m been thrown through the veil. All of a sudden it’s like I don’t feel a need to breathe anymore, as if the world has become smoke. In a split second I think again about all those myths we were told about death, all those conjectures I’ve always taken as fairy tales, but that all of a sudden seem interesting.

They’re all wrong, and death is not comprehensible, nor explainable by any of the words invented by mankind.

And now I’m suspended in an unreal world, in between life and death, still reasoning without knowing for how long. Dead by the hand of a crazy cousin, dead for the usual presumption and power trip, dead to finally be free. Because this is the final goal of all that’s happened to me throughout the year. Understanding the value of that freedom that too many times had been denied to me.

When she will die as well, and I know that it’s going to be soon, I think I’ll thank Bella. I’ll tell her that, in her usual certainty of actin in an amoral way, she became deus ex machina and finally gave me a chance to have my catharsis, to free myself of all that was polluting my mind, and keep living in death, consuming all the time I’ve been given in this incorporeal afterlife.

Pain and tears are far from me now, and I know they’ll never come back to torment me, I know that what I left behind is a world in which everything’s relative, that I’ve been granted scarce moments of happiness just to maim that very same joy with pure horror.

My death will be cried, maybe and not by many, but I don’t belong anymore to the earth, to the ponderable.

I don’t know whether I’ll see again the people I love, if they’ll just be a memory, like a part of the emptiness surrounding me. And I can’t even hear the choirs of angels welcoming me to an unlikely Heaven, but it doesn’t matter.

The only thing I’m sure of now, is that in death there’s the better life we could ever imagine.


End file.
